the Candle Experiment
by MadnessandCocaCola
Summary: Even the most damaged souls can become healed with time and the lighting of candles. EriSol humanstuck Rated m for later chapters
1. Chapter 1

_She grew curious, however, of the stranger she had married. The feeling grew stronger every night when he would lay beside her, shrouded in darkness, insisting that she never actually lay eyes upon him. The more it ate at her, the less willing she was to ignore her instincts and bend to his will. Finally, she was fed up with it. Was it an ogre she had wed? Or some other hideous monster. She raised her lantern, knife clutched in the hand behind her back at the ready for any such awful creature. As the fire's glow parted the darkness over the face that dreamt on the pillow before her, she gasped, and a drop of oil splashed out onto the sleeping angel, startling him out of his slumber. He rounded on her, a look of betrayal crossing his face._

Eridan jolted awake, and kicked off his covers, his body covered in a cold sweat. His nightmare had been growing progressively more intense as the start of the semester approached. It was always the same thing- blood, darkness, sobbing, and the most intense feeling of emotional pain he had ever felt. Every morning up until now, he had brushed it off, blaming it solely on nerves. But to be completely honest, it frayed his nerves even more. Especially last night's.

It was the shrill scream that had broken the last fragments of hope in those dreams, giving way to despair and hopelessness.

Eridan shook his head as he pulled on his clothes and stumbled, exhausted, to his kitchenette. Classes started today. Luckily, not for another couple hours, but his heart still raced at the thought. He sank into his chair, coffee in one hand, his dream book in the other. He had been consorting with it since the nightmares started- but it hadn't been very helpful. As much as Eridan believed in the whole Astrology and star thing, the answers were getting more and more vague, and he was getting pretty damn frustrated with it.

Finally, he slammed it down on the table, scowling as he dragged himself to his feet, and to his coat rack. Fine. If the stars weren't going to help him, he was going to clear his mind with a walk. The only acceptable alternative for someone as well off as himself. Twirling his favorite scarf around his neck, he shuffled into his shoes and jacket, and stepped out of his dorm. He had been lucky (or wealthy) enough to get his own place. The dorm was his alone- just as he liked it. Though, he supposed mildly, he wouldn't really mind company. Especially that of his best friend/cousin, Feferi, whom he had followed to this school- partially upon her aunt's request, and partially of his own stupid selfish motives.

Still, she was angry with him at the time being, and was ignoring his calls and texts, despite the completely reasonable threats and or apologies.

Oh, right. That could be part of why Eridan was in such a foul mood these last couple weeks. It sucks to be ignored by the _only _person that gave you the time of day.

Eridan ducked into his scarf as a cold wind hit him, biting his skin even through the sturdy barrier of his coat. It was already a frigid end to the year- and winter hadn't even started yet. He dreaded finding out what the campus would feel like in four months. He knew already where the best places to walk in order to avoid the cold were- but the winds were bitter and unkind enough that they reached even there.

He wandered aimlessly across the campus, yawning into his hand. While some half of him was craving coffee, the other half argued that the line would be WAY too long to waste time on. Especially with students who had blown off a good nights rest to do whatever the fuck it was that social students did the night before the beginning of the semester.

The logical side of his mind quipped in with the fact that he himself had blown off a good night's sleep, but who needs the logical side of their mind. What did they know. Still, Eridan was having a hard time keeping out the mental image of himself with a nice latte, and he gave in pretty quickly.  
Normally, he had his own supply of beans in his apartment- but he had run out the day before, and wasn't going to get the chance to get more until later tonight after classes.  
Which meant he had to settle for whatever shitty coffee the cafe down the street had to offer.

He pushed in through the door, stepping around a girl digging through her shoulder bag to find her wallet before she stepped in line.

Automatically, out of habit, Eridan's eyes scanned the cluster of people, wondering mildly what their backstories were. He _loved _to people watch. Even more than that, he enjoyed coming up with back stories to the people he saw. The girl sitting by the window came from a middle class family- her mother had walked out on her and her father, leaving the two to make do on their own. Her favorite hobbies were collecting strange rocks she found, and she had graduated at the top of her class, getting a rather fat scholarship, which is why she was able to afford to go to this school for her archaeological degree. The young man at the cash register had just broken up with his girlfriend, and was up every night writing his own love story on the old antique typewriter she had bought him on their anniversary two years previous, determined to show her up with the help of his English major.

Eridan fabricated these stories in a heartbeat, and enjoyed every second of it. He was a theatre student, and characterizing the people around him was easy. He was about halfway through the room of his new characters in the story of his life when the cashier cleared his throat, and Eridan realized he was holding up the line in his daze.

"You don't have to be so fuckin rude about it," he muttered as he stepped up to order his coffee. "A simple, '_you're next, sir' _would suffice."

He said it quiet enough that no one heard, but the cashier noticed the dirty look and rolled his eyes, handing him the receipt.

"Maybe you're the one that needs to mind their manners instead of being a pretentious asshole," came a sharp voice from behind him, and Eridan whirled to face his opponent. He was a twig- a good three inches taller than Eridan, had short light brown hair, and wore the most atrocious excuse for a jacket he had ever seen. His appearance was ghastly- and that wasn't even counting his broken glasses held together with a piece of duct tape.

"I'll take criticism from someone who doesn't look like they've slept in a sewage ditch for the last month. Until you are that person, please don't bother trying to preach on my attitude," Eridan snapped back, crossing his arms over his well tailored coat. "Not like you're the epitome of manners."

His latte appeared on the counter, and he snatched it up, whirling on his heel and marching out without giving the gutter-trash boy another glance.


	2. Chapter 2

History of Modern Warfare was much more enjoyable than Eridan expected it to be. Sure, he had always enjoyed the subject material, but he usually found history teachers dull and monotonous. There were very few that were actually enthusiastic about the subject they taught. The studies were a passion of his, and he had spent many a night on his laptop or at the library, learning as much as he possibly could about it. And from the way the professor entered the room, Eridan knew he had something to look forward to with this class.

"To brothers," Professor Fornax announced, striding into the room with long steps and draping one arm over the antique canon he had resting near the blackboard in the middle of the lecture hall.  
"Two brothers, one on the side of the Nazis, the other with the Allies- neither knowing that they are related. They face each other on the battle field- two men similar in appearance. They both pause, for some reason hesitating even in the heat of the battle and noting each others faces- so like their own.  
They are almost the same person. The same blood. And yet they are opposing each other. What does this mean for their morality?"

Eridan spent the anointed time completely absorbed in discussion, adoring the points made. It was exactly the kind of class he enjoyed most. Already, he was looking forward to the next day. Not only did he have this class, but he had a long theatre class and photography 101. His more… unfortunate classes were carefully bunched together towards the beginning of the week. Unfortunate, he clarified further, meaning not only were they subjects that he enjoyed less, but there were people he had taken a rather biting dislike to.

In fact, much to his great chagrin, the horrifically unkempt boy from the coffee shop was in two of said classes. Sollux Captor, as Eridan learned his name to be, was a freshman majoring in technologies. Not a completely useless major, he figured, but still so damn boring and analytical. Something that resided at the very bottom of Eridan's list of interests. But man, Eridan had developed a serious sense of rivalry and almost-hatred towards him. It didn't help that they were in such close proximity in each class. It was a battle between them- though, Eridan had to admit, it was pretty solidly one sided battle, as Sollux seemed completely apathetic towards the situation and would hardly give him the time of day.

Feferi, on the other hand, had no shared classes with him, and Eridan was starting to suspect that it was intentional, and that she was avoiding him. He spent much of his time dwelling in that fact, irritation frequently quirking his lips into a frown.

Eridan sunk into a chair in the library, lost in his own world. He dropped his textbook onto the table, muttering incoherently to himself. It had been an off day- he had dazed out during class, and caught a sideways sneer shot at him from Sollux when he jolted out of his own thoughts.  
"Who spat in your breakfast?" came a snippy voice from across the table. "Because I'm sure whichever asshole it was was _completely_ unjustified in doing so after seeing at that look on your face. Geez princess, calm the fucking death rays."  
Eridan whirled on his assailant, scowling.  
"I don't think I ever asked you," he snapped, curling his lip.  
"You're right. I didn't mean to impose on you by offering my all glorious advice. Maybe even my golden ear to listen to your shitty and pathetic problems. Shoot. Blow me away with this horrible tragedy. That's why you've been bitching for the last twenty minutes, right?"

The voice belonged to a short, shaggy looking black haired boy donned in a gray hoodie that he just about drowned in. He looked permanetly pissed, and his brows met in deep creases, indicating that he frowned a lot. Maybe more than a lot.

"I'm Karkat. Vantas."  
"Weird name."  
"Oh I'm sorry you find the letters that my darling parents toiled over piecing together for months insulting to your ears. You're Eridan right? The douche in my history class who looks like a fucking five year old at Christmas every time Fornax comes into the room? Well if you don't want help, I'm so very sorry I offered."

Eridan watched him for a moment as he huffed and went back to his notebook across the table. Well, it couldn't hurt, right? He almost liked how much of a complete bitch Karkat was. And if he was in Fornax's class, he obviously had good taste in subject matter.

"Well since you're offerin', and clearly have nothing better to be doin with your time, sure. I'll take you up on that."  
"Oh I have plenty to be doing. Its just out of the kindness of my exceptionally fucking large and generous heart that I'm willing to sit through your soon-to-be bitch fest," he interjected, quirking one eyebrow.  
"Whatever. Since you've obviously realized that you owe me after going off on your own stupid fuckin' tirade, I think I'll vent a little. My best fuckin' friend is avoidin' me, and wont answer my calls, I only like half my classes, an the reason I hate the others is because no one seems to realize how perfect I am and fail to bend to my will. The worst asshole in this situation is that Captor douche."

Karkat snorted, and Eridan jumped, shooting him a dirty look as the shorter boy burst into a harsh laughter.  
"No fucking way," he gasped through his guffaws. "You hate him too? I swear, he's the biggest ass ever."  
"Good, someone finally fuckin understands."  
"Damn straight I do. He's also my best friend and my roommate. I have to deal with him on a daily basis. KK feed me I'm too fucking busy playing computer games to get up and deal with my own issues. He's so lazy, I bet he'll be asking me to wipe his ass next."  
"Wow, that's not somethin' I really cared to know." Eridan glared at Karkat, fiddling with the pages of his textbook. "So what about your all mighty and all holy advice, then?"

Grimacing, Karkat leaned on one hand, his pen balancing in the other.  
"With your best friend, I suggest giving her some space from your obviously overwhelming sense of 'I'm fucking entitled and the best thing ever' attitude.  
And with everything else? Get over yourself. Sollux isn't going to change any time soon. And the sooner you come to terms with that, the less unpleasant you'll be. Maybe. If that's even possible for someone like you."

Eridan's jaw dropped. "Excuse me? I don't remember asking you."

"But you did." Karkat shot him a sarcastic salute and pushed away from the table, gathering his stuff. "See you in class, douche canoe." And he waved, stepping around a bookcase and disappearing into the library.


End file.
